Klowns in my Koffee

Today is our seventh anniversary. Since neither of us ever remembers the number of years, we either have to look at the documents or ask my oldest daughter. One year, we forgot our anniversary altogether and didn't notice until mid-May. This makes us sound like spectacularly unromantic people, though that's not the case at all. I prefer to think that we pace ourselves.

Our typical anniversary involves dinner at the Gasthof Zur Gemütlichkeit http://www.gasthofzg.com/. This is a hearty German restaurant with all the stereotypes blaring: lederhosen, strolling accordion players, the giant glass boot of ale. It's the Hogan's Heroes of German cuisine, a sort of Fuzzy Reich with everything but the slapping. The word gemütlichkeit is one of those abstract nouns that means that comfy feeling one gets when engulfed by warmth and nice surroundings. It's a fun place and, if you are going to let people coax you to drink by shouting at you, this is what to expect:

Ein Prosit, Ein Prosit, der gemiitlichkeit
Ein Prosit, Ein Prosit, der gemiitlichkeit (Cheer!)
Eins, zwei, Drei g'suffa!
Zicke, zacke, zicke, zacke, hoi, hoi, hoi,
Zicke, zacke, zicke, zacke, hoi, hoi, hoi.

[This was not invented by the Man Show, despite what a number of heavy drinkers think. This is really a German song. ...Though a great many German songs are more shouted than sung and sound as though Adam Carolla thought them up.]

But we didn't think we should spend the money right now, so we didn't go there. But you should go if you want to have a good time and some terrific food that will lodge in your midsection until the Fourth of July.

What exciting, romantic thing did we do instead? We took the kids to T-ball practice and then stopped by a local sports bar for a Diet Pepsi and Grilled Reuben. To keep in the spirit, I yelled "Zicke, zacke, zicke, zacke, hoi, hoi, hoi" for old times' sake.